


Last Christmas, I Gave You My Heart

by Ardatli



Category: The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 13:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardatli/pseuds/Ardatli
Summary: Fluff. Unrepentant and unmitigated. Nate and Charlie having a Christmas Moment.





	Last Christmas, I Gave You My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xander_The_Undead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xander_The_Undead/gifts).



> This is something a little different than the usual fare - it's a holiday gift for a friend of mine, starring two of our original characters, originally from a Regency-era roleplaying game.
> 
> So it's original writing, it's gay, and it's a Hallmark-level fluffy schmoop mess of a Christmas gift that I hope you also enjoy.

Charlie’d been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive out to Nate’s mother’s place. The snow-dusted fields stretched away on both sides of the road until they blended with the low grey sky, not even a wandering cow dotted in to break up the monotony, but he stared out the car window anyway. At first it hadn’t been so bad, the radio blaring Christmas pop interspersed with the occasional way-too-earnest carol. This far out, though, the only radio options were country music, French newscasters or _French_ country music, and Nate had flipped off the radio in a fit of disgust before turning it off entirely.

So now… quiet. And Charlie brooding, the dark cloud of discontent weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“If you want your father knee-capped,” Nate offered into the quiet, “I know a guy who supposedly knows a guy in Montreal. That ought to shut him up for a while.”

That earned him a quirk of a smile, but not as much as an actual laugh. “I appreciate the offer, but no,” Charlie did reply after a few more beats of silence. “He’s just… old-fashioned. He can’t help the way he was raised.”

“But he can damn well help how he treats you now,” Nate snapped, biting back the harsher words he wanted to say. He knew from experience how little that would actually help. “There’s a point where grownups have to take responsibility for being jackasses. And it’s not like he’s from the nineteenth century. The man grew up in the sixties, for fuck’s sake.”

“I gave up thinking that he would change a long time ago.” Charlie shrugged it off. Except if he really had, he wouldn’t care so much when he got another earful about his ‘sinful life choices.’

Not that Nate cared whether Charlie’s so-called father was disappointed in them or not, except and only insofar as _Charlie_ still cared. Despite everything they’d said and done, he still had that void inside that craved the exact thing his parents had never been willing to give. 

“ _I_ love you, you know,” Nate did say, the words still new and weird-feeling on his tongue. The feeling wasn’t weird—God, no. He’d loved this man for years before his throat stopped closing down on the confession. “And so do Mom and the girls. The Banbury clan are the ones who are missing out.”

Charlie squeezed Nate’s thigh, his hand warm through the denim of Nate’s jeans. “I know.” Warmth laced his voice, and Nate chanced a look away from the empty road to catch Charlie’s eye. What was he hoping for? A few mushy words wiping out decades of resentment and neglect?

He wasn’t that magical. But at least he could try to turn this Christmas into something special.

* * *

Arrival at the Scarborough house went in the usual whirl of confusion and chaos, filling the sprawling farmhouse with noise. It was the on-year for Josephine Scarborough to be hosting all of her kids and their families, which meant both of Nate’s sisters and their husbands taking over the extra guest rooms, and the kids—five between them already—heaped on to the air mattresses pushed together in the basement.

Nate and Charlie had been tucked in to the small room under the gables, the one with the peaked ceiling that even Nate had to duck under, and the Victorian arched window that looked from the garden like a small ghost child should be occasionally spotted peering out. 

They’d only had time to kick off their shoes and drop their bags before they’d been sucked into the swirl of Christmas-eve activity, ‘Uncle Charlie’ ending up in the living room under a pile made up of children, Mom’s ancient golden retriever, and Nora’s hyperactive new puppy.

“He fits right in,” Thea rested her hip on the door frame next to Nate. She dried her hands on a tea towel and smiled gently at Nate. She was the oldest of Nate’s two sisters, younger than him by only eighteen months.

She’d also been the last in the family to come to terms with the idea that her big brother was as likely to bring a boy home as he was a girl. Even Charlie’s big blue eyes and sunshine smile had taken a while to charm her.

The whole ‘meeting the boyfriend by walking in on your naked brother’ incident that first year hadn’t helped.

“He loves kids,” Nate replied, bumping her shoulder with his in an easy gesture of acknowledgement. “He’s great with them.”

“You could learn some things from him,” she teased, a light in her usually serious eyes. “Assuming you guys want some of your own someday.”

It was as good as having her blessing. Even if the delivery could have used some work.

“Don’t go putting ideas into his head,” Nate warned, his laugh more relief than real humour. “The last thing either of us needs right now is to start fighting about surrogates or adoption.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled at her. “Don’t.”

“And don’t go screwing this up, either,” Thea warned, snapping the tea towel to smack him on the butt. “He’s good for you. You’re good for him.” She paused, giving Nate a flummoxed second to try and figure out her angle- “Plus he’s already learned the secret family recipe for moose milk, so we’d have to kill him if he ever left the fold.”

“And there it is,” Nate snorted. “The true motivation.”

Thea only leaned in to the living room, gave Charlie a little wave when he looked up from the picture book of _Nutcracker_ that he’d been pressured into reading aloud, and vanished into the kitchen again.

The box in Nate’s pocket sat heavy against his thigh. It got lighter with every step he took into the living room, until by the time he settled down next to Charlie and the kids on the carpet in front the fire, his back against the overstuffed couch, he didn’t notice it at all.

* * *

Charlie had siblings, and he’d been to a Scarborough Christmas before, so it wasn’t as though the noise of a chaotic family holiday was anything new. But his parents were the in-bred stiff-lipped WASP types who saw emotion as a sign of weakness, pretty much the exact opposite of the free-wheeling, bead-wearing, ‘ _let’s all_ process _our_ feelings _and meditate thru yoga_ ’ sort of childhood Nate had blithely assumed was only slightly off the edge of normal.

So when Nate caught sight of Charlie slipping away after dinner, closing the living room door on the laughter and chatter of the crowd, he really wasn’t surprised. That many people in that small a space was overwhelming at the most sedate of times.  

The weather had been obliging—just enough snow to make the farmstead look like a Hallmark movie set, but not cold enough to need sixteen layers just to step outside. Maybe Nate had gotten spoiled by warmer winters living further south, but not having his nostrils freeze shut was a definite plus.

Charlie was leaning on the wrap-around railing, caught in the warm yellow glow of the porch light, his breath condensing into soft white clouds just past his lips. Nate stepped on the creaky board on purpose and Charlie barely turned, just a quick glance from the side of his eye that let Nate know he’d been seen.

He draped Charlie’s jacket over his shoulders as he joined him, shoving his own hands securely into his pockets. “Planning your escape?” Nate teased, the easiest way to have a conversation. Josephine might have been all about getting her three children in touch with their inner selves, but _Nate’s_ inner self still preferred an armoured shell. “The car’s got enough gas to make it to Ottawa if you want to make a break for it.”

“A full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, and it's dark out?” Charlie joked back, a little more life in him now along with the couple of glasses of wine. “No sunglasses, though. We may have to take a rain check.”

“Damn,” Nate sighed, boosting himself up to sit on the railing, one leg tucked under him and his back against the corner post. “Guess we’re stuck here, at least until we open presents. On the plus side Nora’s kids think you’re Santa Claus’s advance scout, so they’ve been better-behaved than I’ve ever seen them before.”

Charlie huffed a laugh, sticking his arms into the sleeves of his well-worn leather jacket and pulling it closer around him. “That’s probably the first and last time I’ve ever been compared to any kind of religious icon.”

“I dunno. You’ve got about ninety percent of Michaelangelo’s David down pretty well.”

Charlie’s eyebrow went up. “Ninety?”

Nate grinned. “Sure. Everything except David’s deeply disappointing endowment.”

There went the laugh, Charlie’s cheeks tinging pinker than the cold had done, and he rolled his eyes affectionately in Nate’s direction. “You’re going to be a pest until I’ve cheered up, aren’t you?”

“You know me so well,” Nate volleyed back, the foot or so of distance between them seeming alternately way too far apart, and not very much at all.

But Charlie didn’t have the same sort of adversarial relationship with his inner monologue as Nate did, so Nate sighed inwardly, and sucked it up. “Do you want to talk about it?” Nate offered, reaching out and snagging Charlie’s pinky finger with his own.

Charlie curled his finger up, squeezing Nate’s in return. “You hate talking about this stuff,” he pointed out, not incorrectly.

“True. But you don’t, and I care about _you_ , so.” Nate shrugged, already rifling through his brain to try and pull up the Right Kind of Replies for the conversation they were probably about to have. ‘Supportive’ and ‘cursing out your boyfriend’s awful relatives’ didn’t go together so well. Not usually, anyway.

Charlie smiled, stepping closer and lacing his fingers through Nate’s properly.  “I appreciate the sacrifice,” he replied, his voice lighter than it had been before. “But no, not right now. I’ve been having a good time, and I don’t want to think about the bullshit I can’t change. Maybe once we’re hungover on Boxing Day,” he offered with a grin. “The venting might feel more cathartic then anyway.”

“It’s a deal,” Nate promised, a rush of anticipation and nerves making his heart pick up speed. “So you are having a good time?”

Charlie looked worried. “Do I look like I’m not? Because I am. Your mom has been amazing, and even Thea’s been -” he paused for a second, looking over Nate’s shoulder as though spotting something concerning in the window behind him. Nate turned to look, but the dining room window was empty and he dismissed the moment. “Been great. They’ve all been going out of their way to make me feel like part of the family.”

“You won’t think that’s so great when we’re doing dishes later.” But Nate flashed a grin, even as his chest tightened.  It was the perfect lead-in, almost scripted in its perfection, and he still had to try and force the words past the cement block in his chest.

Did that mean something? Was it a bad sign? Maybe all the jokes about Nate’s commitment problems were a mask for some kind of problem that he was refusing to consciously acknowledge. If Nate wanted this, really truly, would be still be so scared of the very thought?

… _honestly? Probably._

“You _are_ part of the family,” Nate stated firmly. “After four years and a shared lease, you’d better be. And really, I have no illusions—if we ever broke up, they’d keep you instead.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and laughed, his head tipped back and a few lazily drifting snowflakes finding a home in his golden hair. “I doubt it, but I’ll fight you for them if it comes to that.”

“It won’t.” Nate blew out air, his stomach upside down. “Even with everything that’s going on with your parents—you’re not alone. You know that, right? You’ve got family who love you exactly as you are. Me _and_ them. We’ve got your back, always.”

“I appreciate that-“ Charlie was withdrawing again, the sparkle in his eyes dimming, and Nate chased it to try and get that moment of joy back.

“Let’s make it official,” Nate said, enjoying the moment of total blank incomprehension in Charlie’s eyes before panic tied his tongue tight. He let go of Charlie’s hand, scrubbing his suddenly-sweaty palms off against his thighs. “You and me,” he prompted. “Do a thing. Judge and stuff.”

It wasn’t coming out at all the way he’d practiced in front of the mirror, or talked through it on Skype with Nora, his baby sister’s laughing encouragement giving him the strength to push on. He had the vague realization that he hadn’t _proposed_ so much as emitted a tangle of disconnected words, but… it was a start?

Maybe.

Charlie blinked at him a couple of times before he recovered. “Nate…” he said slowly, the name trailing off into silence, his hands handing loosely at his sides. “If that was a proposal, that was officially terrible.”

“Yeah, well,” Nate sighed, ignoring a frantic scuffle from somewhere behind him. The only thing that mattered was trying to fix this, give Charlie the kind of moment most people dreamed a proposal should be. The romance that his stupid homophobic family thought he didn’t deserve. That _he_ spent too much time believing that he didn’t deserve. “I’m bad at wording. I even practiced this, not that you’d know it. Let me try again?”

He dropped down to his feet from the railing, and dug in his pocket for the box. Nate fumbled with the ring box dropping it once before managing to get it open, the braided gold band glinting against the black velvet inside. “Okay,” he promised, grabbing for one of Charlie’s hands before he shoved them away in his coat pockets. “Taking it from the top.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Charlie shook his head, and please, please don’t let that be his actual answer! Nate hadn’t thought through what would happen if Charlie said ‘no.’

It hadn’t sounded like a ‘no,’ though, more of a ‘what the fuck is happening right now,’ so Nate pressed on.

“I’m terrible with words, we both know this,” Nate started, and Charlie chuckled ruefully, but didn’t pull his hand away. “And with knowing what I want, or how to get it once I do. Except this. You’re one of the only things in the world that I’m sure of, and I want to be your family.”

“Is this about sticking it to my dad?” Charlie asked, a frown settling in on his face. “Because as funny as sending him a wedding invitation would be-“

“It’s not,” Nate promised. “I will admit that giving him an aneurism out of pure spite is really high on my bucket list, but that’s just a fantastic side benefit. But no. This is about you and me and making a new family. Officially, legally, and forever.”

A terrible, awful silence settled over the front yard, Charlie’s face backlit by the porch light, his expression in shadow. Six beats of his breaking heart, seven… “Charlie?”

“You haven’t asked me anything yet.” He couldn’t read Charlie’s expression, not the way he was in shadow, but his answer was warm and full of laughter and Nate’s terror melted away, just like that.

“Jerk. You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Suck it up.”

Now there was the man Nate loved, back and in fine form. Nate sighed with an extra dramatic flourish and dropped to one knee in the mud-slushy mix on the porch. It was a lot colder and wetter than he’d anticipated, his jeans promptly soaking through, but fuck it. He grabbed Charlie’s hand again and this time he didn’t let it go.

“Charles William Banbury—and yes, I looked up your middle name just for this, I told you I’ve been planning it—I love you more than anyone or anything I’ve ever loved in my life. I love what we have together and I want _that_ forever too. So, um. Will you marry me?”

“Better,” Charlie grinned—he grinned and then he _smiled_ , his face absolutely radiant, the golden glow from the light behind his head turning him into a seraph, a blessed saint. “And yes, I will. You’re a ridiculous mess, but you’re my mess and I’m keeping you.”

That time Nate definitely heard the muffled shrieks coming from inside the house, and Charlie’s attention went up and over his shoulder instead of on his hand as Nate slid the ring home.

“Nora in the window?” Nate guessed without turning around.

“And her husband, and your mother,” Charlie replied in a low voice, sounding all choked—like with laughter, or tears, or both.

Nate rose to his feet, slush dripping down into his boot, and he tugged Charlie toward him so that he stumbled forward a step into Nate’s arms. “I should confess, they were part of my motivation,” Nate grinned. “Mom’s started threatening to adopt you if I didn’t—and I quote directly—‘shit or get off the pot.’ And having you as my _brother_ would make our sex life deeply awkward.”

“I should thank her.” Charlie snorted a laugh, his cheek wet when Nate cupped it in his hand. He locked his hands behind Nate’s waist and tipped his head down, closing the inch or so of difference between their heights to kiss him.

It never stopped being a thrill, Charlie’s kiss firing sparks through every inch of Nate’s body, his thigh finding its way between Charlie’s legs as though they were home and alone and had the freedom and privacy to act on all the impulses running wild though his mind.

The fear was gone, only a sense of peace and bone-deep _rightness_ left to fill that void.

_Mine._

The kiss ended eventually, a dusting of snow floating lazily downward as seasonal punctuation to the moment. Nate caught his breath, only reluctantly taking a half-step back and putting some air space between them again. “We should probably go in.”

“In a couple of minutes,” Charlie promised, tugging Nate in close again. “Let your mom spread the news for us. Plus,” he added with a flash of a wicked grin, “if we wait long enough, Nora will get impatient and upload at least one of those photos to instagram _for_ us. Then all we have to do is sit back and watch the explosions from a distance.”

“Plausible deniability, very devious,” Nate tucked himself back in against Charlie’s side, letting his ~~boyfr~~ _fianc_ _é’s_ warmth thaw him through. “I approve.”

Charlie kissed him again, smiling against his lips, the Christmas lights twinkling in the window behind.

And for one perfect, picture-postcard moment, all was well in the world.


End file.
